Mavis One Shots
by Mavis the Fairy Tactician
Summary: A collection of RP's/One Shots for/from Mavis Vermilion from my Instagram page, @mavis the fairy tactician. Please let me know if you have any requests! I'll be happy to make an RP for you :)
1. Giving and Recieving

**- Giving and Recieving -**

**By Mavis the Fairy Tactician**

* * *

Magnolia is much more crowded than I remember.

The market swarmed with people as I carefully dodged the many bodies around me. The lanterns that hung above illuminated my path as I scanned the sides of the streets for my destination. The wind felt like knives against my skin, cold with the absence of a coat or jacket. It had only begun to snow last week and I was already regretting my choice to not own a cloak in the previous years of my afterlife. I side stepped a young child, barely missing the base of their hand as they fell into the street. After about 105 years of being invisible, you begin to get used to excluding yourself.

Today, I am on a mission. One that I've never actually decided to take before, for fear something would go wrong. I am going shopping. Yes, it may seem like a trivial and daily job for the average living person, but when you're dead and invisible to those around you..

Well, you'll see.

My shopping trips take incredibly precise planning. I have to make sure no one is around when I take the items I need, and when I carefully place the jewels I owe in their register. Shopping requires me to be very..

Tactful.

I dashed into an alleyway, hoping to gather my bearings for a moment before returning into the crowded streets of the Magnolian market place. Usually, instead of walking with the crowd, I preferred to take the birds eye view and fly above the bustling group of people. However, I was unaware that they would have festive lights hanging above the streets. It's a lot harder to fly when you have to look through and dodge a web of lights.

I took a deep breath and ran my icy fingers roughly over my bare forearms in an attempt to warm them. It was no use, but still nice to have the friction against my pale skin. Ignoring the biting cold and extreme want to stay in the dry alleyway, I shoved myself into the crowd. I shivered as I felt the eerie presence of another person walking through me. I always hated that. Even though I've been living like this for over 105 years, I have never once began to get used to the feeling of another person pass through you. However, despite my reluctant attitude, I tried to ignore the various limbs and bodies that collided with my soul while I walked with the flow of people.

I kept my eyes peeled for certain types of shops. I had the list of my desired items memorized in my mind, imprinted with my well-trained brain. Catching a glimpse of a tailoring shop, I pushed through the bodies and found myself staring up at the bright, pale blue sign of the shop.

"Tales of Tailors.." I muttered in awe, a slight smile rippling across my face. I pressed my frozen cheeks to the window, taking in all of the beautiful hand-crafted clothing. Among all of the amazing items in that shop, only one managed to really catch my eye. It was a light blue cloak, one with no pattern nor hood that looked as thought it might flow even past my long hair. It made my body begin to heat up by just the thought of how warm it would feel against my shivering figure. Patting the small pouch of jewels resting on my hip, I stepped towards the door and pushed it open with a slight gesture of my hand.

The smell was what hit me first. It was a strong scent of Christmas; pine and gingerbread. It fit the warm cozy feeling of the store perfectly. The warmth curled around my stiff fingers, bringing the feeling back in mere seconds. I barely noticed that a bell went off as the door closed shut behind me. I stood in the doorway, frozen. The manager lifted her head, peering at me - the door - with a slightly confused look on her face. "Must have been the wind.." I heard her mutter. She looked back down at whatever she had been reading, a small hair falling in front of her face. She brushed it away and flipped a page.

Perfect.

I made my way towards the cloak, making sure that my steps were light so as not to let the wooden floor creak beneath my weight. Not that I could really feel my feet anyways. It hid behind a rack of dresses, all off them much to large for me. I approached the blue cloth, taking in all of the wonderful features it held. If I concentrated just enough magic into it, I could make it invisible just like my dress. But I have to be careful; too much and my hand might become visible. And no one wants to see that.

I lifted my arm from my side, unclenching the nervous fist I held. I reached out and ran my fingers along the smooth surface of the cloak, the soft fabric tempting my fingers to just reach out and grab it. But I had to stay silent. I peered over the rack, checking to make sure the manager had not taken her eyes off her book or noticed my presence. She was concentrated on the book in her hands, her mind oblivious that a ghost was currently in the room with her. Thankfully the store was empty other than the two of us, so I didn't have to worry about any other people. The only problem I might encounter would be the window.

I looked behind me through the large window where I had first noticed this cloak. I could see various people making their way through the streets, not even bothering to look in the direction of this cute little store. 'Hopefully they won't notice this cloak disappear..' I thought to myself, biting my bottom lip nervously.

I turned my head back around, careful to not let my long blonde locks get caught in my surroundings. Reaching out shaky hands, I clasped my fingers loosely around the silk fabric. I focused my magic into my hands, my forehead creasing in concentration. I could feel the familiar power dance around my fingers, spreading into the cloak. I took a deep breath and released my grasp. My eyes fell on the cloak that now shimmered bright with my magic. A smile of eagerness split across my cheeks, and I greedily threw the cloak over my shoulders. The slight wind I had felt against my arms before ceased, leaving behind the memory of a tingling sensation.

I dug my hand into the pouch by my hip, pulling out my desired amount of jewels. The cloak was surprisingly good priced, considering all of the time that was probably put into it. I stepped out from behind the rack, my stiff bare feet careful not to make a slapping noise. My toes had long lost feeling.. Shoes were next on the list.

I shuffled forwards silently, holding the jewels tight in my fist. The manager was still reading. I glanced at the counter, noting how long it was. I took a few small sidesteps, holding my breath, and reached out to quietly place my jewels on the end of the table.

Her eyes never left the page. I let out the breath I had been holding. For some reason I felt as though I was stealing, but I dismissed the guilt. My actions were completely fair. I traced my fingers along the edge of my new cloak, happy with my new purchase. Taking the wooden handle in my palm, I quickly pulled open the door and dashed out.

"The wind again..? Hey, what's this?" I heard the woman at the counter mutter to herself. It eases my heart knowing she'd seen the money. I giggled, watching the snow flakes fall down the protective fabric, leaving my body dry and snug. It was time to continue my mission.

My foot reluctantly stepped off the sidewalk and into the busy crowd of people. I quickly joined in, falling into step with the surrounding civilians. I moved at a brisk pace and followed the movement of those nearby. Thanks to the warmth of my jacket, I was now able to deal with the cold. However, the time I had spent in the store had brought warmth back into my toes. Now the pain had begun to settle in.

I winced, looking around desperately for a place to rest for a moment and find a way to warm my feet. Catching a glimpse of a narrow alleyway, I immidiently broke free from the crowd and made my way into the shelter. I stumbled into a barrel, catching myself with a flailing arm against the cold stone wall. I leaned against it, letting the strong material take some of the weight off my feet. I flopped down onto a wooden crate nearby, pulling my foot over my knee and into my hands.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move behind some crates. Taking my eyes of my foot, I turned my head and scanned the alley for what had caught my attention.

In the far back corner sat a child. A small girl, no older than 6. Her face was pale and her cheek bones stuck out obviously. Dark circles framed her eyes. She sat, her knees pulled in tight near her chest, in between two crates with a thick tarp draped over the hole to keep the snow out. She looked so pitiful; her tiny frame shivering roughly. All she had on were a pair of ripped cloth pants, large boots with many holes and no laces, and a dark gray-brown sweater that was supposed to be on a full grown man. Not a young child.

I could already feel the lump in my throat begin to form. She looked so vulnerable and weak, her eyes darting back and forth, alert for any dangers that she might come across. I have been around long enough to see these situations more than I needed to. This girl was probably an orphan, alone without a pack of kids. The gangs of children prefer to have the older kids instead of the younger ones since they are more productive. Little girls like this one often get left behind and ignored.

My heart ached for the child. Her mangled, dirty blonde hair and tiny figure reminded me of myself at one point. If it weren't for my friends, I never would have gotten through those rough times. But this girl..

She has no one.

I glanced down at my warm, brand-new cloak. My eyes raised once more and stared at the girl, before they flitted back down onto the blue that occupied by shoulders. Without hesitation, I rose from my seat on the wooden crate and approached the girl. I ripped the fabric from my frame, allowing it to dangle in front of me by my two white hands. Taking one last look, savoring it's warmth, I released it from my grasp and allowed it to fall onto the child's lap.

The slight shimmer that had been around it before cracked and shattered. The girl snapped to attention, whipping her head up upon feeling the weight of a cloak draped over her knees. Her face was contorted in a mangle of emotions; shock, mostly. But there was also happiness. That of which a child would have. Tears welled up in her dim eyes. She pulled a shaky hand out from in between her knees and stomach, reaching for the cloak in her lap.

Her fragile, grimy fingers glided along the top layer as if she was scared to touch it. Which, she probably was after it appeared out of nowhere. The child withdrew her small arm and looked around the alleyway. A tear slipped down my cheek. I watched her chest heave as she began to sob, the tears leaving clear tracks on her dirty face.

Sometimes, the best way to heal yourself is to help heal another. I turned and left the alley, back into the cold.

And I smiled.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed :) If you'd like to read more FanFictions/RP's about Mavis, check out my account on Instagram: mavis_the_fairy_tactician or check out the hash-tag #mavisrp on Instagram. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Alone

**- Alone -**

**By Mavis the Fairy Tactician**

* * *

December 14th, X784

I am always alone at Christmas.

I remember the blistering cold nights where I would sneak into the town, only a few years into my afterlife. I'd try to warm myself by the fires in nearby homes, hoping that the happiness from the lively families would spread to me. Since I didn't remember my parents, I had always wondered what having a family felt like. That was one of the reasons I had created my dear guild; so that I could start a family of my own.

For the first few years after my passing, I'd return home to my tree from the town with no success in warming my spirit. I would sit alone, huddled into a ball behind my gravestone as if it somehow shielded me from reality. I learned eventually that I'd have to get used to my new life-style. And that's what happened sooner or later. Christmas began to pass by as any other day for me. And if it weren't for him, I'd probably forget what day it was all together.

He was always there; every Christmas. Always in the same spot. I knew that when I saw him there, sitting at my grave when I returned for the night, that Christmas was near.

I don't know why Zeref chose that time of year to visit me. I don't know why he visited me in general. I don't even know if I was the reason he came to my island. Maybe my grave just happened to be a comfortable place to sit. To me it certainly was. But the constant thing that always irked me, was that he was alone.

Just like me.

I knew how it felt; to be left out of society, excluded with no hope of return. But he was shunned. Hated, even. Just about the entire population in this world was afraid of him. And it wasn't even his fault.

I would watch his expression change with his thoughts. I used to wish more than anything to be able to read his mind. I knew he could sense me, but he never seemed to mention me. Let alone acknowledge my presence.

It wasn't until this Christmas that I had actually considered getting him a gift.

I had gone on a quick trip to see if Fairy Tail had begun to prepare for their S-Class trials, and while visiting, I happened to come across my old collection of photos. Makarov had hid them safely, just as I instructed to Purehito. The attic in the bell tower was quite squeezed; but perfect for a hiding place. Blowing away the dust from on top of the wooden crates, I quietly lifted off the top and sat it beside the box. On the very top was an old photo. One that I barely remembered taking.

Two children sat side by side, a blonde girl and a raven haired boy. Their eyes were squeezed shut with joy, mouths pulled open in a large smile.

One that for the first time in a while, wasn't fake.

I took the photo delicately in my hands, tracing my fingers over the printed image. Its old, weathered and limp paper immediately renewed at my touch. This seemed to be a habit of my magic. Whatever I held returned to the form I desired it most in. And when I set it down, it would return to normal. The memory felt so distant to my mind, yet so close to my heart. I flipped the painting over, careful not to mess up the front. On the back in my careful handwriting a date was written.

_X683_

I was 13 then. That was when I'd left to join a school for magic. They taught me most of what I know now; it is because of that school the three great Fairy Magic's now exist. On the day I left, we each gave the other a gift as a promise to meet again when I'd finished my training. Mine, the wings which represented leaving the flock and becoming independent. Him, a silver pendant. I promised that when we met again, I'd give him a picture to hold in it. One of us.

This picture.

Sadly, that day never came. When I returned to the place we promised to meet after those three years, he wasn't there. I still kept the picture. I held on to the hope that one day, we'd see each other again. And I'd be able to give him that picture. Unfortunately I was never able to. And the picture was buried away, hidden beneath wood just as my empty body was when I died. Seeing it again reminded me of my promise. One that I still had to keep.

I clenched the box in my hands tightly, its red paper standing out against the pale snow of Tenroujima. There he sat, back against the stone, arms crossed on his legs, chin rested. The same image I have seen every year for the last 100 or so years. I looked down at the present nervously. Would he really know what it meant? How would he react? What if..

He had forgotten?

I had to overcome these thoughts. They were simply possibilities; there was no telling what the outcome would be until I tried. I drew in a deep breath and marched around to the other side of the stone where he sat. Bending down into the deep snow, I fell to my knees beside him. I placed the small box on top of the snow, next to his feet. The box instantly darkened, the paper losing its youth once out of my hands. I had wrapped it in some of my old fabrics I found along with the photo. That way, it may spark his memory.

His dark head whipped up, alert to the surrounding area. He turned, looking my way.

My heart stopped.

He reached out, slowly, and placed his hand.

But he wasn't looking at me.

He was looking through me.

He picked up the box, the fabric wet from the short moment it had made contact with the snow. His gaze softened as he shifted it into his other hand, holding it tightly. For a second it looked as though he was unsure what to do with it. But he pulled the ribbon off, and carefully unfolded the cloth, revealing a small cardboard box.

a brief moment I saw a flash of sadness in his eyes as he lied the fabric down in his lap along with the ribbon. He continued to open the box, reluctant to view what it held. I suppose I would be too, if a box appeared out of nowhere like that. He reached his hand in and closed it around the thin object.

And pulled out the photo.

His face stayed the same, emotionless. And we sat there. Together.

It was as if it were old times again; we didn't need to say anything. Just the fact that we sat side by side, sharing each other's presence was enough. At least it was for me. It felt like hours before he finally moved again. The dark mage reached toward his chest, his eyes never moving from the photo. And he took off the pendant.

He took the photo.

And tore it.

I watched the edges fall off the photo until only our smiling faces remained, the image just large enough to fit into the empty silver metal. He pushed it into the necklace, only letting his eyes gaze over it for no more than a second before he snapped it shut and threw it back around his neck. He turned his head, looking away from me and into the open path that lead out of my small clearing.

It might have been my imagination, but I believe I saw a tear on his cheek that day. It fell down silently, leaving nothing behind but the slight sparkle of its path. I wasn't sure if it was his tears, or the snow that fell around us.

"You don't have to be so alone." I whispered. Maybe, he would blame my whisper on his imagination as well.

* * *

**Merry Christmas :)**


End file.
